an old writer and his words

  • UNANSWERED

    There are so many questions for which I have never gotten an answer. What, for instance, does one who is lactose intolerant cry over? If the rest is history, can’t we just stop now and read it later? And if every cloud has that silver lining, it has been well seeded, so why isn’t it…

    Lou Faber

  • LAMBERT FIELD

    The gravestones, in random shapes line the hill the morning chillcreeps between them and onto the runway until washed awayby the spring sun slowly pushing upwardas the jet noise washes the hill unheard He passed away quietly in his bed ending his dreadof the cancer slowly engulfing him his vision dimmedby the morphine that pulsed…

    Lou Faber

  • ALIVE IN THE NIGHT

    I walked the cityin the heart of the night,street lights casting the shadowsof ghosts of those long goneto bed, unknowingthat the city has beengiven over to ravening windsthat find no shelter. I step into an alcoveand the fading lightof the flickering bulb overheadurges me to move onlest she bury mein the darkness of her grave.…

    Lou Faber

  • CHATTER

    The cat tells me thatlong after we have goneto bed for the night shehears the argumentsof the authors of the bookslining our living room shelves. The poets, she says, quibbleover rhyme and meter, claimthis one is academic, thatone merely skilled in doggerel. And don’t, she adds, get herstarted on the Buddhistauthors, who argue endlesslyover their…

    Lou Faber

  • SHOWERS

    We sat on our lanai last nightin our twin rockers, the catcurled close by but carefullyremoved from the rockersand stared into the sky hopingmeteors would grace uswith their fleeting presence. The moon did appear, shroudedin thin clouds, spectral ghostwaxing slowly in hiding, butthe stars had fled this night,fearing the rain thatthe cloud mantle promised. We…

    Lou Faber

  • AS INSTRUCTED

    As I was leaving the surgical centerthey handed me the sheetwith my post-procedure instructions,a sign of faith perhaps, that Iwas sufficiently out of the sedationto know what I was given. I tucked them in my pocket, anxiousto get home, to get coffeeand the food I’d been deniedsince midnight the night beforejust in case something went…

    Lou Faber

  • OF DREAMS

    I am now of an agewhere I can no longer rememberwhat terrors gripped my sonsin their dreams, causing themto appear beneath our blankets,I relegated to the bed’s edge. Perhaps there were noneand I was destined to bean edge sleeper, the boystaking advantage as a jokeplayed out night after night. I know what dreams nowcan rip…

    Lou Faber

  • READY, FIRE, AIM

    He should have knownthat the day was doomedfrom the moment he woketo see his alarm clock in pieceson the floor by his bed, the catgrinning at him from the placewhere the clock had always sat. Finally arriving at the office,he was no sooner at his deskwhen the fire alarm bell rang.Within moments of reenteringafter the…

    Lou Faber

  • MIRRORS

    Each morning I drag myselffrom bed, slowly engage my legs,and amble into the bathroomwhere I peer into the mirror.Each morning I am surprisedthat I am the same as I wasthey day before, and yet the mirrorby all appearances,has grown another day older.It is, I suppose, the natureof mirrors to age, sadly for them,and as I…

    Lou Faber

  • DE GUSTIBUS

    As the last of the wine glasses is put back on the shelf the Brut recorked and the dishes set in the tray to dry we take a slow walk after the meal hoping the arrabiatta sauce will be less angry, the pasta less weighty, when we arrive back home to the sofa and the…

    Lou Faber